From Darkness
by A Lucky Stone
Summary: Telemachus never expected his friendship with Peisistratus to develop in quite the way it does, but after meeting him he matures, gains confidence... and falls in love. Peisistratus slash Telemachus. Smut in Parts 3, 4 and 5. Concrit always appreciated!
1. Part 1

"Peisistratus?"

The voice of the young Ithacan echoed through the dark portico. Nestor's son rolled over to face him. "Yeah?"

"What your father was saying today… do you think I'll ever be anything like my father?"

Peisistratus sighed at the uncertainty in the other boy's voice and propped himself up on one elbow to speak, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "Of course you will. You have Athene guiding you, don't you? …And you have me. Father already spoke to me – he's sending me with you when you leave. To keep you company." There was a hint of irony in his last words. Telemachus couldn't understand why.

"You… don't want to go?" he guessed.

"No. No," Peisistratus laughed softly. "It'll be an adventure."

Telemachus frowned. There was subtle teasing in the other boy's voice. "Peisistratus – I know I'm young, and inexperienced, but please – don't treat me like a child."

"Sorry. That wasn't the intention."

Telemachus sighed. He wasn't being taken seriously. "I want to learn from you. You've had a better upbringing than me – you have a **father**. You're the closest to my own age and status of all the men I know. But just because I want to learn from you doesn't mean you can treat me like I'm stupid – I'm an adult as much as you are. Treat me as an **equal**." He fell silent, as surprised at the anger in his words as the prince of Pylos was. Somehow the darkness had made him bolder.

Peisistratus's eyes glimmered in the shadows. Telemachus flinched nervously away from that cool gaze. Eventually, the Spartan replied. "Alright. I'll… I'll look after you."

It wasn't the answer he'd wanted to hear. But it would do. Coming from the handsome prince, it was hardly the insult it would have been from the lips of one of his mother's Suitors – men who were hardly older than he was. He nodded, and rolled over in the bed without another word.

Peisistratus watched the young man's back for a few seconds – fair hair dark in the shadows curling over his bare skin. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he turned away from him, and slept.


	2. Part 2

Peisistratus was aware of eyes on him all day. At meals, during the council, during the sacrifice to Athene. Telemachus was watching him. He couldn't decide whether to be disturbed or flattered by the young Ithacan's attention. It was going to make for an interesting journey.

They were a league out of Pylos before either of them spoke. Peisistratus looked down and caught Telemachus glancing up at him. He smiled and looked back at the road. "You've been watching me."

"Err…yes."

"Why?"

"Because… I wanted to see how you act."

"Oh. This is part of wanting to learn from me?"

"…yeah."

"It's a little creepy. But it's alright," he added hastily, "If that's how you want to do it. But…"

"What?"

"Well, would you rather have a **conversation**?"

Telemachus blushed. "Umm, sure."

"So…"

"So?"

"So tell me about yourself." He glanced down and smiled again. It was unbelievable how awkward this boy was.

"Alright. Well, I…" And he told the Spartan all about himself. About growing up with no father, his mother, Penelope, and her Suitors. About how everyone expected him to be like Odysseus. About the way he never knew what to say or do, but he was trying to learn. Peisistratus assured him that he would be fine – he just needed some time. The young prince was already getting more confident, he noticed, and he couldn't help wondering just how much more.

Then they swapped, and it was Peisistratus's turn to talk. He told Telemachus about growing up with older siblings, and no father for half his life. About meeting his father at the age of ten, and having to live up to the standard of a dead brother, never mind his living ones. The fair haired boy listened attentively, smiling and frowning in sympathy. He was a good listener, and Peisistratus was a good talker. It said a lot about them that they were happiest like that. By the time they stopped for the night – at the house of Diocles, an old friend of Nestor's – they could have known each other for two years, rather than two days.


	3. Part 3

"Thank you, by the way," Telemachus said as he got into the bed he was to share with Peisistratus. They were in the portico of Diocles' house, after a fine dinner with him and his wife and daughters.

"What for?" The tall boy frowned up at him, blankets pulled modestly up to his chest.

"For today – for talking to me, and listening."

"What were we supposed to do, be silent all day?" He grinned and shrugged. "Nah. It's alright. I learnt a lot."

"You did?" Telemachus smiled shyly. "Yeah. Me too."

"I've noticed."

Telemachus saw the brooding look he'd come to recognise by now in his friend's eyes. "What is it?" he asked.

"What's what?" The dark haired boy looked across at him, and Telemachus saw his gaze pass up and down the blanketed shape of his body before reaching his face.

"You have that look…"

"Which look, the 'you're so stupid' one?"

"No. The other one. The one that means you're thinking about something."

"Oh. **That** one." Peisistratus paused, for once uncertain of what to do. "Telemachus – you were watching me. Was it just because you want to learn from me?"

"Yes…"

"Are you sure?" He looked at across at the boy, his face lit by the light of the dying summer sun. Telemachus's eyes were wide, deep pools of living brown under long eyelashes and a blonde fringe. Peisistratus rolled his eyes at the stupidity of it all, and reached over and kissed him.

Telemachus let out a muffled squeak of surprise. Then his hands moved of their own accord, twining into Peisistratus' dark hair and tugging him closer. He kissed back, timidly at first but with growing confidence, and pressed his body close to his taller friend.

The prince of Pylos pulled back, breathless. "It wasn't just because you want to learn. I knew I was right."

Telemachus smiled at him. "Maybe you were, this time. …And I surprised myself again."

Peisistratus laughed quietly and pulled him into another kiss. He was not so gentle this time, parting the lips pressed against his with his tongue, and feeling Telemachus respond, shifting his grip. One hand stayed in his hair, the other slid down to the small of his back. Their bodies were pressed together, from chest to belly to thigh. He could feel the other man breathe, and more.

Peisistratus smiled. He freed one hand and reached down between them, stroking the hardness he found there. Telemachus gasped and arched against him. His lips mouthed fierce passion, all inhibitions gone. His heart was racing. Barely thinking about what he was doing, he swept his left hand over Peisistratus's hip, down, down to his taut stomach and lower, pleased when he found he could make the dark haired prince shiver under his touch.

The Spartan pulled his hand away, ignoring his friend's murmurs of protest, kissing him harder, tongue delving into his mouth. His hand caressed the other boy's back, bare skin like silk over hardened muscle. He moved down his spine, further down his body like the body of a young god, and slipped two fingers into the cleft of his arse, pressing gently into him.

At that touch, dizzying heat swept through Telemachus's body, and he moaned, pressing himself closer to Peisistratus. The taller boy laughed softly, and pulled away to look him in the eye. "You like that?"

"Y-yes," he answered, almost incoherent with arousal. He couldn't look away, those pale eyes luminous in the darkness held him pinned in position.

"More?"

"Please…"

A glimmer of approval showed in the prince's grey eyes. He rolled away and sat up.

"Where are you going?" Telemachus asked, confused.

"Ssh. Trust me. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then watch and learn." Standing up, he moved to the end of the bed, where the servants had placed their packs, and crouched down to look for something. Telemachus watched curiously until he stood up, holding a small jar.

"What -" he began as the taller boy slipped back into bed beside him. He was silenced by another kiss. Peisistratus stroked one hand down his side, shaking the jar with a grin, and he realised it was olive oil.

"Come on," the other boy murmured, guiding him up onto his knees. Telemachus gasped at his touch, eyes wide. The dark haired prince smiled, and shifted to kneel behind him, running a hand over his chest. He could feel his heart pounding. His other hand opened the jar, fingers dipping in and coming out covered in oil. He began to prepare himself, slicking the gold liquid over hardened flesh, and between the other boy's buttocks, slipping a finger inside him. Telemachus cried out and shivered against him.

Peisistratus bent forward, pushing Telemachus down, catching one of his hands and positioning it on the head of the bed. "Brace yourself," he muttered into his ear. The fair haired boy nodded, breath coming in short gasps as he arched up against Peisistratus. The Spartan moaned softly, and pulled away. He sat back on his heels, pausing before he knelt up again, hands roaming over the other boy's back as he slid into him.

Telemachus's breath caught in his throat. "Ow…"

"Sorry," Peisistratus muttered, voice thick and unsteady. He stopped, gripping his partner's hips, accustoming them both to the sensation. After a moment he started to rock gently back and forwards, in and out, thrusting deeper.

Telemachus cried out as he hit a tender spot, sending fire shooting through his veins. And then a hand crept round his side, stroking over his hip bone, caressing him, and he couldn't control himself any longer. He came with a cry that half the household must have heard. Dimly, through waves of pleasure, he heard Peisistratus laugh and felt him shudder, tensing. The dark haired boy thrust once more, harder, and gasped out an incoherent oath.

Telemachus could feel Peisistratus' heart beating. He pulled out from under the other boy, letting him sink down to the bed. He rolled onto his back and lay there, trying to get his breath back. After a moment he dared to look over at the Spartan, and saw him staring at the sky. Peisistratus noticed the movement and turned his head to look at him. He smiled.

Telemachus smiled back. "I've… never done that before. Not with a man."

"No?" Peisistratus didn't seem surprised. "New experience then. You liked it?"

"Very much." Telemachus blushed, as the words came out of his mouth without passing through his brain.

"Good." The dark haired prince smiled again, and rolled over. It seemed like nothing else needed to be said.

Telemachus gazed at him in silence for a minute or so, and decided he was right. He closed his eyes and sank into sleep, quicker than he would have thought possible.


	4. Part 4

They left Diocles' home early the next morning. Their excuse was that they wanted to reach Menelaus' house before the evening. In truth, Telemachus couldn't wait to leave. It felt awkward to be in the place where he and Peisistratus had done _that. _He could tell Peisistratus knew he was uncomfortable, and he could also tell the other boy thought he was strange. He caught the prince of Pylos watching him more than once during the journey, eyes glittering with amusement. They didn't speak of the previous night. They didn't speak much at all, and Telemachus missed the easy companionship of the previous day. He thought Peisistratus was teasing him, waiting for him to make the next move. The problem with that was he didn't know what to do.

The sun has set before they reached Lacedaemon, and Menelaus' palace. It was all dark outside, save for a lamp above the gates, but Telemachus could hear the sounds of distant celebrations. Peisistratus reined in the horses just outside the gates. There was no sound, no movement, and then they spied a shadowy figure peer briefly over the courtyard wall, and hurry away. "Must be a herald of some sort," Peisistratus commented. Telemachus nodded, and they sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute or so until the gates were flung open.

A middle aged man hurried out, pausing to bow to them. "My lords… welcome to the palace of King Menelaus. My name is Eteoneus, if there's anything I can do for you while you're here…" A group of assistants had followed him out. They were dashing around, taking the horses' reins from Peisistratus and beginning to unharness them, while all the boys could do was stay out of the way. The steward ushered them down from the chariot and into the palace.

Telemachus was dimly aware of him explaining something about a wedding, but all his attention was taken by his surroundings. He'd never seen a place as grand as this. Even the usually restrained Peisistratus was staring. Everything was made of gold, or silver, or bronze, or finely carved wood. The bathroom they were led to was decorated with paintings, and the maids who bathed them wore embroidered tunics.

The girls were beautiful, for no king would have an unattractive slave in his household, but it was Peisistratus that Telemachus found himself watching as they bathed. He tried hard not to stare. His naked body was unexpectedly beautiful, slender and strong, with all the muscles that Telemachus wished he had inherited instead of his father's wiry build. Peisistratus, who seemed so at home here, chatting and flirting with the maids. The Ithacan wondered if he would have one of them – take her as he had taken Telemachus – and was surprised by a sudden prick of jealousy. He stayed silent as he was dressed in new clothes, and avoided Peisistratus' eyes as they were led to the hall. He knew the other boy would have words with him later. He was supposed to be following his example. That meant making an effort to talk to the maids, but it seemed so pointless. He wasn't interested in them. He was only interested in Peisistratus.

The realisation worried him. He resolved to put it to the back of his mind as much as possible, and concentrate on the feast – at least until they were alone. So he smiled at the housekeeper and thanked the carver who served them, and was grateful for Menelaus' words as the king welcomed them. But they ate in silence, and Peisistratus seemed unwilling to start a conversation.

Telemachus gazed across the hall as he finished his meal. He had completely forgotten that he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Peisistratus in _that _way. Watching the other guests, an idea occurred to him. If Peisistratus wanted him to be proactive, he would be. He leant across to the dark haired prince, close enough to feel the heat of his body. Mouth close to the other boy's ear, he murmured "Look around the hall, my friend… The whole place gleams with riches. Is this not what the court of Olympus must be like? The sight… fills me with awe."

At those last words, Peisistratus felt a light touch on his leg. He turned, catching the dark eyes bolder than he'd seen them before. Their faces were inches apart, and Telemachus' hand was creeping up the inside of his thigh. It was hard to think straight in such a situation, and it was a moment before he realised Menelaus was talking to him. With a brief glare at Telemachus, though he couldn't keep his lips from twitching up into a smile as well, he turned deliberately back to the king.

Menelaus was talking about his travels, how he'd accumulated his riches. It seemed that he had had many adventures, while at home his brother was murdered, and all mourned those lost at Troy. "I would be happy with even a third of my former estate," he continued, "if all my friends were alive. I mourn them all – but one man most. Of all the Achaeans at Troy, it was Odysseus who worked hardest and achieved most." Telemachus paled at the mention of his father. "Yet it all ended in misery. Who knows where he is now, dead or alive." The Ithacan boy raised his cloak to cover his face, but not before Peisistratus saw his eyes spilling over with tears. There was no shame in crying, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. He settled for placing an awkward pat on his friend's arm, and pretended to listen to Menelaus. "I suppose his people think him dead – his old father, his loyal wife Penelope, and his son Telemachus – that boy he left as a newborn child." Menelaus trailed off into thoughtful silence. Telemachus was still hidden behind his cloak. Peisistratus glanced between the two of them, uncertain for once.

In the middle of their silence, a group of women came down into the hall. All eyes were on them in seconds. Even from a distance Peisistratus could tell which one was Helen – the way she held herself, a head taller than her ladies, golden hair piled high and curling over her shoulders. They were laughing about something, as the ladies arranged Helen's chair near the king and she sat down with her spindle and basket. She smiled up at her husband, and Peisistratus could see how twenty years ago she could have been the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Menelaus, my husband," she began, "do we know the names of our visitors? Surely… surely the boy must be some relation of your companion Odysseus? It must be Telemachus, the newborn he left when he came to Troy – and all for my sake, shameless creature that I was!"

"I have seen the resemblance," the king smiled, "And when I mentioned Odysseus, he…seemed upset."

Peisistratus looked at Telemachus, who glanced back up at him, wiping his eyes with the hem of his cloak. He sighed. It looked like it was his responsibility to answer, then. "Menelaus, son of Atreus – favourite of Heaven – you are right in supposing that my friend here is Odysseus' son. But he is modest, and on a first visit like this he is to bashful to speak invited in front of you, whose conversation gives us such pleasure. So Nestor of Gerenia sent me – his son – with him for escort, as Telemachus was anxious to see you, in case you might help with advice or suggest some line of action. For a son, when his father is gone, has many difficulties to cope with at home, especially if there is nobody to help him, as is the case with Telemachus, whose father is abroad and who has no other friends at home to protect him from injustice."

Menelaus' smile widened. "Who would have thought it? Odysseus was a great friend to me, and now his son is in my home. If Odysseus had returned from the war, he could have had any house round here, any town even, to live in with all his family and his people. We would have been neighbours, and met often. But some jealous god must have taken offence, and so ensured that Odysseus was the only one to never reach his home." The king's eyes filled with tears as he spoke, Telemachus was crying into his cloak again, even the queen was weeping though she still managed to look beautiful. Peisistratus was as surprised as anyone to find tears pricking at the back of his eyelids. Menelaus' words had struck a chord in them all.

For Peisistratus, they reminded him of his brother Antilochus – the brother he had never met, who had died in the Trojan War. It still disturbed him though, to see the great warrior and queen in tears, and he didn't want to break down and cry, not here. Not in front of Telemachus. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned to the king. "Sir… my father always said you were a wise man, but please, take some of my advice – contain your grief." You will only upset Telemachus more, he added silently. "Crying and eating don't mix well. …not that there is any shame in mourning the fallen – I have my own dead from the war, my brother Antilochus – you must have heard of him?" And not only did he change the subject, but he would get to hear about the brother he was supposed to live up to.

Peisistratus saw Telemachus watching him sidelong during the king's reply, judging his reaction. But Menelaus took the hint too well, and did not mention Antilochus. Instead, Peisistratus sat uncomfortable while the king poured praise on him and his father. He could almost _feel_ Telemachus' attentiveness at his side. The boy was doing his best to remember this conversation by heart. The young Spartan was glad when Menelaus advised that they should get back to their supper, and ate silently, picking at his food, trying to forget what had been said about him. It wasn't true, none of it, he was just clever at phrasing his thoughts to please others. And this was what he was supposed to teach Telemachus? He thought it would be blasphemy to corrupt that innocence. Corrupt him any more than he had already.

He just listened while the king and his wife swapped tales of Odysseus, but felt his mood inexplicably lighten despite their tales. Beside him Telemachus was smiling with pride at his father's exploits.

Soon, for they had arrived late and been dining through the night, they all retired to their beds. The two young princes were to sleep in the portico, but separately this time – for they were in the palace of the richest king in all Hellas, and the maids set up two beds for them. Neither of them spoke as they undressed and got into bed. Peisistratus avoided making eye contact with the other boy.

Telemachus didn't know what to say to him. He lay in the dark for several minutes, missing the comfort of human warmth beside him – even after only two nights he missed it – as he stared out at the sky. Eventually, he worked up the nerve to speak. He turned over, looking towards his friend. He hoped he wasn't asleep. "Peisistratus…" he said, in a voice pitched to carry no further than the other bed. "Last night – what was that? Just some experiment, some kind of lesson, or…" And then he ran out of words to say what he was thinking.

Peisistratus wasn't asleep. But he toyed with the idea of pretending he was, before turning to face Telemachus. "No," he said, after a moments consideration. "It wasn't just an 'experiment'. If you want the truth, I wanted to do that almost since the moment I met you."

"Oh." He could think of nothing more intelligent or coherent to say. "You…"

"Yes, I thought you were attractive. I thought you enjoyed it too, last night I mean. I didn't… I didn't intend to take advantage of you or anything. I didn't mean to scare you, or confuse you… I just… well… you didn't complain."

Telemachus couldn't see his face in the darkness, but he was struck by how soft the other boy's voice was, how young he sounded, words spilling out uncertainly. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he'd never seen Peisistratus as vulnerable – and that was how he sounded now. He sat up. "Of course I didn't complain." And once again he was surprised at how in the darkness he was so much bolder. "It was…good, but just not something I've done before… which was why I… might have been a bit weird." He paused. "I just wanted to know – was that _it_?" Because he couldn't stop thinking about Peisistratus. He didn't know what this was but he wanted more of it.

Peisistratus laughed quietly. "No, that's not it, not if you want more."

Telemachus smiled, feeling a faint blush creep up his cheeks.

Peisistratus looked across at him. He could almost be called beautiful, with the moonlight illuminating his face and shining on his pale hair. He smiled back, berating himself for his earlier worries. That was stupid. Why should he care about that, if Telemachus liked him? Why should he care if Telemachus actually liked him or not? But now the other boy was smiling, such a rare occurrence, that smile, and he looked so young, and nervous, and sweet…

Peisistratus shifted over to one side of the bed, and lifted the covers. "C'me here," he smiled, patting the bed next to him.

Telemachus hesitated. He could still hear slaves chattering in other parts of the house. A swift glance round, though, to check no one was watching, and he was out of his bed and into the other. The dark haired prince slipped an arm around him and pulled him close. They could have stayed like that all night, sharing body heat and an unspoken understanding. Telemachus slid an arm around his friend and caressed his back, twining his fingers in his hair. He pulled the other boy's head down to meet his, and kissed him.

There it was. That feeling again. Deep in the pit of his stomach and behind his eyes, something burned. It left him dizzy and wild with anticipation. Peisistratus felt it too, pulling Telemachus close, leaning into the kiss, enjoying every second of it.

Telemachus broke away to breathe. His eyes shone. Peisistratus looked down, and let himself fall into those amber depths, fall into the recesses of a mind that mirrored his own. Like and unlike, young, beautiful, alternately bold and shy… He pulled the boy close for another kiss, dreamlike, hardly aware of what his body was doing.

The Ithacan allowed himself be held for a few seconds, but he was growing impatient. He pushed Peisistratus down onto his back, rolling on top of him. The other boy opened his eyes and looked up mischievously. Telemachus took his smile as consent. He let his hands slide down the young Spartan's firm torso as he shifted back, trailing kisses over his chest, touching him as he had wanted to all evening.

Peisistratus laid back, relaxing under his gentle fingers. The other boy sucked a nipple and he moaned. Then fingers crept lower, over his stomach, over his hipbones, teasing him by stopping just short of where he wanted to be touched. He tried to reach to guide them, and found his wrists suddenly pinned to the bed. He opened his eyes in puzzlement. Telemachus looked up, tousled hair falling round his face. He had pushed the blankets back, and the night air was cold on their naked skin, a contrast to the heat between them. There was a wicked glint in his eyes that Peisistratus hadn't expected. He lowered his head. Peisistratus gasped as he felt warm breath upon his skin, fighting the urge to beg. The other boy's tongue darted out, wetting his lips. He couldn't look away. He strained against Telemachus' grip, but he was too strong, and Peisistratus no longer had the willpower to fight. "Please…" he murmured finally, giving in.

His hips arched up involuntarily at the first contact of lips on skin. He gasped, heartbeat quickening, as they settled into a rhythm, lips and tongue and warm wet mouth, firm hands holding him down, holding him… "Oh, gods, Telemachus…" he moaned, not caring who heard, if only, if only…

Every muscle in his body tightened, tensing in anticipation of relief. Telemachus lifted his head, and Peisistratus came anyway, jerking beneath him, crying out to the sky. Telemachus watched his lover's breathing slow, slow almost to normal, as his own frustration grew. Grey eyes flickered open in a face flushed with pleasure. "Come here," Peisistratus murmured.

"What?"

"Come here."

Telemachus did as he was told. Peisistratus turned on his side, putting an arm round him. His kiss was affectionate, almost delicate. Telemachus arched against him impatiently, pulling him closer with a hand fixed firmly in his hair. Peisistratus would have laughed, were it not that he could feel the urgency in that kiss, feel the heat and solidity pressed up against him. His free hand slipped down between their bodies, fumbling, teasing. Telemachus moaned softly against his lips, all words lost. Peisistratus stroked his back, daring to work downwards, sending a finger probing inside of him, gentle pressure on the spot they had found the previous night. His other hand worked up and down in gentle movements. Peisistratus knew just how to make Telemachus lose control, and as he did he swallowed his lover's cry with a fierce kiss.

They lay tangled in each others arms, breathing hard. It was a while before Telemachus worked up the energy to roll away. Peisistratus smiled at him, smiled at the expression of mild shock on his face. "You've done this before," he teased.

"No, I haven't." Shock was replaced by a vague pride in himself. "But you have."

"Yes."

"Does your father know?"

"No. Why should he? It's not his business. …I just happen to like men more than women."

"What about… you know, marriage?"

Peisistratus shrugged. "What about it? It's just part of life. I have to produce an heir – and you can't do _that_ the way we were going about it. Anyway – 'a woman's a duty, a man's a pleasure,'" he quoted. "I can still have male lovers."

"Is that what we are? Lovers?"

Peisistratus nodded. "Why not?"

Telemachus kept the eye contact for a few seconds, searching for an explanation in those cool grey eyes. Lovers. It sounded… fitting, he supposed, for a secret such as this. He supposed it would explain what he was feeling when he thought about it some more. Abruptly, he sat up. "We should clear up."

Peisistratus yawned and nodded, and helped him clean up with the blanket they'd made such a mess of. They hid it under the bed – the slaves would find it, but they wouldn't ask questions. Telemachus hesitated before getting back into his own bed. "Goodnight," he said finally.

The Spartan's smile conveyed approval. So he was finally doing this right.

"Goodnight."


	5. Part 5

Menelaus asked the boys to stay for a couple of weeks; Telemachus declined, but even so they stayed in Lacedaemon a full month. The air of celebration seemed a permanent feature in this household. When they were not feasting, the two of them spent much of their time with the king's son Megapenthes. With him they practised sword and spear, and the arts of battle.

Peisistratus, like his father, excelled at the spear, but Telemachus lacked the strength to throw long distances. However, he was small and light enough, fast enough, to best either of the others with the sword. Megapenthes was a good charioteer, and often bemoaned the fact that his best skill was more suited to a common soldier than a king's son. Through their sparring sessions, Telemachus' open admiration for Peisistratus evolved into a liking, an understanding, and respect. The first time he defeated him with the sword he realised the young Spartan wasn't perfect. That was the first time he counted him as a friend.

Peisistratus didn't mind being beaten by Telemachus. On first meeting him, he had see him as too shy, too awkward, not cowardly but just too nervous to accomplish anything. It took defeat to change that. He had pitied the Ithacan prince; now he respected him. He found that he wanted to help him, with weapons, in his search for the truth about his father, anywhere – but with his growing confidence Telemachus wouldn't need his help.

By day, they became friends, and by night, they stayed lovers. It was several nights after that memorable sword bout that Peisistratus began to treat Telemachus as an equal. Neither of them could have pinpointed the moment their relationship changed from uncomplicated sex into something meaningful. Neither of them realised for a while afterwards, and they didn't admit it. It had begun as just fun. Now it was something more, not that they could ever have defined what. Peisistratus knew he would miss Telemachus when they both returned home. Telemachus hadn't thought that far ahead.

They both changed over that month. By day, Peisistratus improved his skill with the sword, and Telemachus learnt the best techniques for throwing a spear. At night, Telemachus learnt how to take control, and how to believe in himself. Peisistratus discovered how to lose all restraint. He began to grasp the art of thinking about emotion, other peoples' and his own.

One night, Telemachus stopped Peisistratus from getting out of the bed after they'd had sex. He wanted the company and the warmth. They got into the habit of sleeping in one bed, bodies entwined. As soon as dawn came, one or the other would awake, and they would separate. It was in the half light of sunrise that Peisistratus was struck by how beautiful Telemachus was. It was the look in Peisistratus' eyes as he woke up that made Telemachus love him.

Telemachus couldn't sleep. He had been dozing for hours, intermittently sleeping or just lying and watching Peisistratus. Propped up one on elbow, he studied his lover's face – shadowed by moonlight, dark lashes veiling his eyes in peaceful slumber. He yawned. …maybe he would try and sleep again. It wasn't yet dawn. Opening his eyes he looked up, and –

There was a woman by the bed. How long had she been standing there? Telemachus leapt out of the bed, blushing furiously. The night air was cold… He realised he was naked and turned an even darker shade of red, automatically clasping his hands together to preserve his modesty, for his dignity was all gone. There was an awkward pause, and then he got back into the bed. Peisistratus hadn't noticed a thing.

There was really no way to explain what he was doing. "Err…"

The woman smiled. She was no ordinary woman, Telemachus realised, now he looked properly at her. She wasn't carrying her shield or spear, but by the way she held herself she was unmistakeably the goddess Athene. He swallowed nervously. He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

"I see you've been enjoying yourself, Telemachus."

He blushed again, unable to defend himself. Her grey eyes glinted in amusement. "Perhaps too much. You should not have left your home unguarded for so long. Urge your host to let you leave, if you wish to find your mother at home still." The goddess sighed. "Her father and brother are putting pressure on her to marry Eurymachus, for the sake of his wealth. If she i _does /i _remarry… if she does, you can no longer trust Penelope – she and her husband will raid your home for her dowry. You would be wise to hand over the government of the household to a trusted woman-servant, until you have a wife of your own.

"More importantly… Telemachus, the suitors are plotting to kill you." The goddess approached the bed and perched on the edge, for all the world as if she were another man. "They are waiting for you in the straits between Ithaca and Samos, intent on murdering you. Not that I think they will succeed." She smiled, and Telemachus was sure he saw pride in that smile. A goddess, proud of him, he who had forgotten entirely about his mission and his lost father, who had spent the last month as little more than a slave to unthinking lust? And surely she knew. He avoided her gaze as she continued.

"Sail to Ithaca – land at the first opportunity, and send your men with the ship around to the harbour. Go on your own to see the swineherd Eumaeus – he has always been loyal to your family. Stay there for the night, and send him to tell your mother that you are home."

Telemachus nodded, and she seemed to take that as his promise. He watched as she turned into a grey owl and flew off into the still dark sky.

Still in shock, he turned and nudged Peisistratus with his foot. He rolled away, so Telemachus kicked him.

"Ow!" The Spartan opened one eye and looked up at him sleepily. " i _What /i _?"

"Get up, get the horses, we've got to go," Telemachus looked at him urgently.

Peisistratus blinked. His eyes stayed closed for a little too long, and Telemachus shook him awake again. They re-opened into a frown and he pulled himself into a sitting position, yawning. "…Telemachus, it's still i _dark /i _. We can't travel in the dark. …at least wait until dawn and give Menelaus the chance to send us off properly."

Telemachus paused, thinking, then he nodded. Peisistratus wondered what had caused this sudden change in him, and the guilt in his expression. He has always known their time together had to end, but he had never expected it to be this abrupt. He lay watching Telemachus as he packed anxiously, making he sure he messed up the other bed so that it looked slept in.

Dawn found Peisistratus barely more alert than he'd been when he had first been woken up. Telemachus turned from packing his bag to see Menelaus approaching in the first light of the day. It was only then that he realised he still wasn't wearing anything. Hastily pulling on a tunic and cloak, he went over to the king.

"Menelaus, favourite of the gods, I beg you to excuse me, but I must leave. I must go home."

"Telemachus," his host smiled, "I shall not keep you against your will. Just give me sometime to bring you your gifts, and you must have a meal before you go." He paused. "Perhaps, if you wish to tour Greece you would take me as your guide? We would not leave any city without gifts, I assure you."

"King Menelaus… I really am anxious to be home." Telemachus paused and looked him in the eye. "I left no one in charge of the household when I left, and I am afraid that when I return there will be plots to deprive me of some of my property, and perhaps my life."

Peisistratus, watching from the bed, saw Menelaus nod and reply only briefly before returning inside the palace. Telemachus turned back towards him, still pale with shock and worry. His attention was miles away, but his face was set in a mask of determination. The Spartan sighed, running a hand through his hair. It looked like he was going to have to face the day.

Dressed and finally awake, he joined Telemachus at breakfast, and stood to one side as the prince was presented with gifts: a two handled drinking cup, a silver mixing bowl rumoured to have been crafted by the Lord Hephaistos himself, and from Helen an embroidered gown – for his future wife, she said. Afterwards, they sat down to eat, but the two boys ate little and spoke less.

They were silent for the beginning of the journey back as well. Peisistratus needed to get his thoughts in order. It wasn't until the sun was well up in the sky that he glanced sidelong at Telemachus and spoke. "It'll be good to see my sister again."

It was a non-statement, barely worth the breath to say it, and Telemachus knew it. He sighed. "Athene came to me. She said I had to return home, and she was right. I've been wasting my time."

Peisistratus knew that Telemachus didn't mean that i _he /i _was a waste of time, but he couldn't help feeling hurt. At the same time, though, he understood the power of a god's command, and the call of duty. The guilt Telemachus felt was evident in his voice, and Peisistratus knew he was a part of that. Not only did Telemachus feel guilty for not trying harder to find his father, but now for leaving Peisistratus. But they knew their relationship had never been meant to last. The dark haired prince sighed. "It's alright."

From there, their conversation turned to lighter matters, friendly meaningless chatter as it had been on their outward journey. Just as on that previous journey, they stopped at the house of Diocles. They ate with him and his family – a simple meal compared to Menelaus and Helen's feasts – and retired to bed.

They lay in that bed, the bed where they had done i _that /i _for the first time, thinking how much had changed. They lay staring at the stars, not touching.

Telemachus spoke, quiet in the darkness. "This is our last night."

Peisistratus turned to look at him. "I know."

They had sex then, hard and fast and frantic. They wanted to remember every moment and make the most of every second.

The friction between them pushed Telemachus up to ecstasy; and he found himself murmuring, "I love you, I love you," between gasped breaths at each thrust of his lover's hips. Peisistratus echoed his words just once, "I love you, too," before they came together and collapsed back onto the bed in a tangled heap.

Telemachus reached up to kiss Peisistratus' face and was surprised to taste salty trails down his cheeks. Peisistratus curled against him, seeking familiar comfort in the warmth and solidity of his body. The Ithacan put his arms around him and held him, listening to his heartbeat and his breathing until they fell asleep.


	6. Part 6

Telemachus was sore the next day. He suspected Peisistratus also had aching muscles. They hadn't been as careful as they usually were. He didn't mind. The pain was a reminder in the harsh light of day of what they were to each other in darkness. When it was gone, he would savour the memories instead.

Peisistratus halted the chariot a little way out of Pylos. He turned to Telemachus. It was an effort to make eye contact with him when it came down to it. He was afraid of what he would see in those eyes – so vulnerable, so beautiful, tempting him still. But when he managed it, he saw only determination, any hints of uncertainty well hidden behind a mask of strength. After everything, it was Peisistratus who felt like he was going to fall apart.

He swallowed. "Telemachus…" he began, with difficulty, confidence building as he began to speak. "Listen to me. You're going to go home – and you'll find your mother, and sort out the Suitors." He paused, spotting traces of cynical self doubt in Telemachus' expression. He was getting into a good flow now – he'd always been able to fool himself, and from there it was easy to convince other people – especially when it was true.

"Don't worry about your mother, seriously – let her marry if she wants to, once you're in charge of the household you can decide whether to send her back to her father for a dowry or keep her with you. You'll know what to do. You have good judgement, and the instincts of a good leader." He smiled. "I've seen that in you, over the past month. …The gods have too – Athene favours you, like your father – so you can ask her for advice, not that I think you'll need it." The dark haired Spartan paused again, frowning slightly. "Soon… fairly soon you'll be married. You'll be a good husband… and a good father." He grinned, then, at the expression of shock on Telemachus' face. He'd guessed that the other boy had not thought that far ahead.

"You will, I'm sure. And me… _I _will go home, to Pylos, to my father and my brothers and my sister, and whatever my future will be. Telemachus…" He placed a friendly hand on the blond prince's shoulder, looking him in the eye with complete seriousness. This was the part of his little speech he meant most. "It _will_ all work out. You'll see. …Be strong."

He finished speaking and knew those last two words had been directed at himself as much as at Telemachus. He saw his feelings echoed in the depths of Telemachus' dark eyes, and knew he understood. He reached for the other boy's arm in a gesture of manly solidarity, and found himself drawn into a sudden fierce embrace. He wrapped his arms around the prince's slender body and held him one last, pressing his face into his pale golden hair. Telemachus buried his eyes against the Spartan's shoulder, and clung to him as if with the strength of his grip he could impart strength into the body pressed against, as if their lives depended on it. It was hard to breathe. His nails left marks in Peisistratus' back.

Peisistratus pulled back, slowly, letting Telemachus regain his composure. He turned away, then, and woke the horses into movement with a shake of the reins.

They stopped for the second time, on the beach above Telemachus' ship. The young Ithacan turned to his companion. "My friend…" he smiled, "I must ask a favour of you. Your father's hospitality is generous, but I need to get home quickly. …I would not want to make the mistake of staying at the palace to long."

Nestor's son paused, then nodded. He could understand that. He turned the horses and drove down to the ship on the shore. He retrieved the gifts Telemachus had been given by Menelaus and Helen, handing them to a sailor. Standing beside his chariot, he turned to Telemachus for the last time. "Go, my friend. Embark at once, and make sure you have left before I reach the city and tell my father." He paused. "He won't be happy that you left without visiting him again – he'll probably want to come down here and persuade you to stay himself. And he's very persuasive," Peisistratus added, with a wry smile that Telemachus knew well.

Their goodbyes had been said and done up on the hilltop outside the city. There was really nothing left to say. Peisistratus nodded to the sailors urged his horses into a trot. He didn't wait to watch the ship leave. He rode towards the city, and he could feel the marks of Telemachus' nails in his back. When the pain faded, he would only have the memories.


	7. Epilogue

_'…and the wound will smoulder on, __there is no cure, __a terrible brilliance kindles on the night'_

_- Aeschylus, Agamemnon_

Dear Peisistratus,

I expect you've heard the news, and the stories. I won't bore you with the details; you know everything that's important. Yes, my father is back. I could hardly believe it at first – of course, I don't remember him, I was only a baby when he went to the war. I didn't believe him at first. But, he convinced me – and together we rid Ithaca of the Suitors! With two loyal men, as well, but even so were vastly outnumbered. I think we must have been helped by Athene. The only injury between all four of us will leave me with a small scar on my wrist. I am amazed it was that easy to defeat them! Also, I was pleased to be able to use the spear tactics that you taught me.

My parents have been reunited. It feels strange to be part of a proper family, for the first time I can remember. For now, it means I don't have to be king. However, my father is gradually giving me more responsibility. He has told me he thinks I will make a good leader. It's a lot to live up to, but I expect you understand that.

There is also talk of me getting married, when a suitable girl can be found. One name I seem to hear a lot these days is 'Nausicaa', the princess of Phaeacia. Apparently she helped my father on his journeys. We're supposed to be visiting her family soon. She sounds alright, but young – so I get a bit more freedom first.

Once the kingdom is settled again, my father is thinking of touring Greece and visiting all his old friends – your father included. I should be able to persuade him to make a stop in Pylos without much difficulty, and we can see each other again.

It has all worked out. I suppose you were right, although I could never have been that confident in the future. But then you were always right about these things.

Telemachus

Dear Telemachus –

I told you so.

P.


End file.
